


in the same place

by orphan_account



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, everything i touch turns into slowburn never trust me, keep the tag alive my bois, set post-produce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 21:58:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12756972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: 5 times hyeongseop reaches for woojin.1 time woojin meets him halfway.





	in the same place

i. august

 

dial tones are one of the single most daunting sounds in existence. they really shouldn’t be, in light of what he’s been through in this year alone. but maybe that’s exactly it, this single noise serving as a reminder of everything up until this point. his mind floods with the sounds of months past; a blur of songs, both old and unheard, of strengthening friendships, both established and new, of roaring crowds, of eliminations-

“hello?”

his breath catches in his throat, and he stalls for time, switching his phone from one hand to the other. “hi, i, uh, wanted to wish you happy birthday.” there’s no immediate reply, and he falters for a second before scrambling for something else to say. “sorry, i’m- this is kind of weird, i should have just sent a message or something-”

“thank you, woojinnie,” hyeongseop cuts him off, his voice gentle and slow, everything like woojin recalls, everything he’s been wanting to hear. “that’s really sweet of you.”

it’s funny how the smallest remark from the other can still send his heart racing, the beginnings of heat prickling at the tips of his ears, and there’s nothing he wants to tell hyeongseop more than  _ ‘everything about you is the definition of sweet,’  _ but that’s a little too much even for him.

so instead he settles for, “it’s nothing. how have you been?”

“good,” the other responds, voice a touch higher than usual, which woojin can roughly translate to  _ ‘not good’.  _ “what about you? busy, i’m guessing.”

“yeah.” he doesn’t delve into any detail. there’s the tiniest hint of bitterness underlying hyeongseop’s speech, and he doesn’t want to aggravate it any further. he wants nothing more than to restore the soft honeyed tones of hyeongseop’s voice, to hide him away from anything that could spoil it further. although, realistically, what is there that he can do to stop it? it’s been two days since their debut, and their faces are already plastered everywhere- television screens, mobile phones, congratulatory ads. the resentment must be inescapable, no matter how much he wishes it wasn’t.

hyeongseop, ever-perceptive, changes his tone almost immediately. “well, busy-boy,” he starts playfully, “are you free in the next few days? we can do something for my birthday, if you want?”

woojin stares across his shared room, gaze fixated on the wall. his lips part as if to say something, but nothing comes out. his fingers wind their way into his bed sheets, gripping tighter. “uh, i’m really sorry, i’m not sure…” he trails off, not wanting to give the definitive answer, no matter how much they both know he’s not telling the whole truth.

and the truth is, he won’t have time for hyeongseop in the next few days, the next week, the next month- the next year?

the beginnings of sour laughter tickle at his throat when he comes to the realisation that their passion for music is what brought the two of them together, and yet, is the exact thing keeping them apart.

“no, no, that’s okay!” hyeongseop chirps, his voice slightly too loud through the speaker. it makes woojin flinch. “just let me know when you’re free.”

woojin nods absentmindedly, until he remembers that he’s  _ on the phone, hyeongseop isn’t here,  _ and responds with a hasty, “okay, i will.”

 

(he doesn’t.)

  
  
  


ii. september

 

the vibration of his phone against the counter in front of him is enough to jolt him out of his sleepy daze. he reaches a hand out to turn it over quickly, not wanting the wandering eyes of his hairdresser to catch sight of the screen, no matter what it is. privacy is something sacred to him, and something he doesn’t get enough of in this life path. he leans back into the chair, letting his eyelids flutter shut, succumbing to the beckonings of sleep and busy hands immersed in their work.

the heat of hands and styling tools leaves the top of his head just as his phone buzzes again. he waits, saying a quick thanks to the stylist, before lifting himself out of his seat. he tries to occupy himself with bothering jihoon for a moment, commenting on the sleepy disorder of his hair. jihoon doesn’t respond, so he reaches a hand out to bat at a particularly standout clump of hair sticking into the air, to which he receives a sharp jab in his side. a childish grin spread across his face despite the pain, to which the other laughs, shaking his head. the lethargy of the early morning still pollutes the room’s atmosphere. woojin is grateful for it, if only because it gives him the opportunity to roughly dishevel jihoon’s hair once more without retaliation before he ducks away to find a spot against the wall to settle into. 

**baekgu:** hi! ^^

**baekgu:** just wanted to check up on u

he pulls his phone close to his chest discreetly, eyes darting around to make sure none of his bandmates’ attention is on him. the only two who aren’t tangled up in a mess of makeup brushes and hair tools are daehwi and jinyoung, the former of which is preoccupied with fixing the other’s shirt, soft smiles gracing their faces. woojin is pretty sure the shirt didn’t need fixing at all, and the fact only warms his heart further. he can’t decipher the meaning behind the tugging of his heart, a definition stuck somewhere between appreciation and longing, but that’s a different matter altogether.

he’s thankful for the mask of anonymity words provide; the fumbling of his fingers is telling him that he would be fumbling over spoken phrases right now.

**hwanggu:** hey

**hwanggu:** im doing well, how are u?

he grimaces. the message reads much too formal, but it’s too late to backtrack.

**baekgu:** good good

**baekgu:** what u up to today?

he tries to swallow down the lump forming in his throat at the image of hyeongseop, sitting in his dorm- a practice room, maybe, if he’s being optimistic- restless with all the malaise and monotony of trainee life, nothing better to do than to check up on him of all people. the discomfort doesn’t ease, even as he forms a response.

**hwanggu:** sorry we’re like just about to do a shoot

**baekgu:** ooo !!!

**baekgu:** send pics (;

woojin freezes. his eyes dart up from the screen, filled with paranoia that someone is watching him, and he’s relieved to be met with the scene of the others preoccupied with their own business. he rereads the message, toes curling in shoes that aren’t his, and tries to convince himself that it’s a mistake. 

**baekgu:** (:*

the air he inhales fills him with relief, but it doesn’t stop the heat creeping up his neck, making a home across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and he needs it to stop because  _ oh god, that is definitely not what hyeongseop meant.  _

he pulls his phone closer, practically curling in on himself. managing a reply proves difficult when his phone almost slips out of his grasp six times. 

**hwanggu:** sorry i gotta go ill talk later1

it’s his phone’s fault, he swears, as he shuts his eyes in exasperation.

**hwanggu:** !*

**baekgu:** oki have fun! (:

woojin has never liked the smile emoticon. its full of a vague malevolence; threatening,  _ teasing _ , almost.

he hates it a little bit more today.

 

(in the dark solitude of the van ride home, woojin finds himself comparing hyeongseop to the view from his window.

hyeongseop is sure of himself, in the same manner the high-rise buildings stand tall and stable.

hyeongseop is careful, all of his movements measured and carefully considered, just like the calculated placement of road signs and traffic lights.

hyeongseop is flamboyant, in the way that neon signs demand attention, always intending for some outside reaction.

and maybe, woojin thinks, hyeongseop knew exactly what he was doing.)

  
  
  


iii. october

 

not sending a text for weeks then suddenly asking to video call seems to be hyeongseop’s idea of ordinary behaviour.

woojin always knew he was a little offbeat, that’s one of the (many) things he likes about hyeongseop, but it’s one in the morning and he’s scrunching his face both in confusion and at the relative brightness of his phone screen. he’s in a shared room, he can’t exactly lie in bed and chat away and not expect for someone to wake up. no matter how much he wants to hear the other’s voice, to  _ see  _ him, his chest already hurts from just the idea of disrupting the much-needed sleep of one of his roommates. the living room isn’t much better, knowing his own inability to control the volume of his voice. he drags a hand over his face, rubbing at his eyes, as he comes to the realisation that he’s actually about to sit in the bathroom at one in the morning to talk to hyeongseop.

he exhales deeply, holding his phone over his face to read the message over once more, and proceeds to drop it on his face.

“fuck,” he half-whispers, voice coming out as a croaky mess. he tries to send a quick message with one hand, the other holding onto his now-aching nose, and realises he’s already sent something.

**hwanggu:** hkl,,j,

hyeongseop is already typing.

**baekgu:** are u ok ??? 

**hwanggu:** yep,, just give me a sec ill call u

he slips out of his sheets, taking careful steps across the floor. the sound of the door clicking shut makes him flinch, but there’s no other sounds of movement from inside. the yellow light of the bathroom is too bright even to his half-shut eyes, and in the mirror he can see that his hair is akin to that of a lion.

but none of that matters, really, because they’ve seen each other in worse states.

he sinks down to settle against the door, pulling his knees up to his chest, and hits call.

the first thing hyeongseop says to him is, “did you drop your phone on your face?”

he narrows his eyes, holding his phone in the air despite the fatigue weighing his limbs down. “not even a hello?” he mumbles, mouth still swollen from sleep.

“i’ll take that as a yes.” hyeongseop laughs, light and airy, and there’s nothing woojin has missed more than the tiny nuances of his expressions- the way his eyes soften, nose scrunching up, lips curling up at the edges as he smiles.

woojin can’t help the fond smile pulling at his lips as he asks, “what did you want, anyway?”

“to see you,” hyeongseop answers without hesitation. it’s almost frightening, sometimes, how quickly he formulates responses- yet there have been so many moments where he’s seen hyeongseop falter, struggling to form a single word, stumbling over simple phrases. hyeongseop is a person made up entirely of contradictions, and woojin wants to make sense of him, but it’s difficult when half of the time hyeongseop’s words manage to leave him breathless, unable to think, let alone respond. 

and respond he doesn’t, lips parted, floundering for something to say. it takes a while, but when he raises his eyes from the tiled floor, hyeongseop is still there, patient, waiting. 

(he keeps hyeongseop waiting all too often, he thinks.)

without thinking, he utters, “i miss you.”

he watches, waiting for the delay of the call to catch up, and he doesn’t miss the way the other’s eyes widen, brows raising slightly under dishevelled hair. it leaves just as quickly as it came, replaced by a restrained smile, all soft edges accompanied by an even softer gaze. “i’ve missed you too,” comes the response, but it doesn’t quite sound right to woojin’s ears- the usual unguarded brightness of hyeongseop’s voice replaced with something muted. 

neither of them say anything. woojin shifts uncomfortably, the tiles under him suddenly feeling ice cold. 

“woojin,” the voice on the other end calls, tone subdued. “you should go get some rest, sorry for keeping you up.”

he shakes his head quickly. “it’s fine, i’m not tired.”

“you look tired,” he responds, eyes fixed on the screen.

“no,” he retorts, starting to sound like a petulant child even to himself. “i’m not.”

“almost four months, and you haven’t changed at all,” hyeongseop says, voice as soft as the autumn rain.

_ four months. _

four months since they last crossed paths.

four months since hyeongseop, voice watery, jokingly told him, “don’t forget me now that you’re famous,” except the sincere worry in his eyes told him it wasn’t a joke at all.

four months since woojin realised just how much he misses hyeongseop when he isn’t there, realised that he’s never going to forget.

he wants to forget.

he’s missed all of his chances to tell hyeongseop how he feels, and now, here he is, curled up on the bathroom floor in the most silent hours of the night just to speak to him. and really, even if he manages to say it now, and, by some miracle, hyeongseop feels the same way- what can they do?

memories of soft pink sweaters, of vermillion shirts, of weeks spent helping each other learn, of learning about each other- all they do now is fill him with the bitterness of what could have been.

“seop,” he starts with hesitance, the other’s lips quirking up as he listens intently. “don’t you ever get resentful? about… what happened?”

“of course i do,” he replies gently. the small smile on his features doesn’t disappear, yet it seems to grow more melancholy with every passing moment.

“it doesn’t show,” woojin remarks quietly.

“you should get some rest.” 

he knows hyeongseop is deflecting the topic, but his body is aching from a combination of his lack of rest, sitting on the hard floor, and the cold seeping into his bones, urging him to take the other’s advice. he nods slowly, lethargy finally starting to settle in. “you too.”

“can… can you stay on the line with me?”

his heart stutters at the sight of hyeongseop, waiting for a response, brows raised slightly in worry. he’s almost certain this is a terrible idea, that it’s only going to leave him longing more than ever before, but he replies, “yeah,” in a low voice.

he pretends to be falling asleep, heart racing as fast as his mind, until he’s almost certain that hyeongseop has drifted off. he can just barely make out the soft lines of hyeongseop’s features in the dark, but he’s seen this exact scene too many times for him to not know just how delicate he appears in the dead of the night, entirely vulnerable, and he thinks this might be the time that hyeongseop is the most beautiful.

woojin ends the call.

 

(in the frigid cold of the morning, he realises that he doesn’t have to wake up to a video call with hyeongseop for butterflies to tickle their way from the tips of his toes all the way up to the net caught in his throat.

because that same face, all soft smiles, good mornings, and pink cheeks, floods his mind regardless.)

  
  
  


iv. november

 

in the humbling quiet of his room, outside voices as muted as the evening light, it’s easy to forget just how many people he has that care.

it’s odd, really- his birthday should be full of celebration and bliss, and he’s never been one for quiet- but here he is, at 6pm, sitting on his bed in reserved silence. he reaches for his phone again, absently checking how much time has passed, when it hits him.

6pm, 2nd of november.

he scrambles to open his messages, fingers moving quickly to form a sentence.

**hwanggu:** congrats on ur debut!!! 

**baekgu:** happy birthday woojinnie! <3

he blinks at the screen, confusion crossing his mind first at the speed of hyeongseop’s reply, then even more at the contents of the message. it takes him some time, mind still a blur, but the realisation dawns on him that the other had waited until the release to wish him a happy birthday. his mind wanders back to observations of months past, and he doesn’t just think, he  _ knows,  _ that this was intentional. there’s an all too familiar ache in his chest as he types.

**hwanggu:** thank u! 

**baekgu:** npnp! & thank u, it still doesn’t feel real eep but it means a lot to me !!!

an affectionate grin spreads across his face as images of the elder, all nervous smiles and excited jitters, flood his thoughts. hope fills him in airy clouds, a giddy light-headedness floating in his head, as he lingers on the fact that hyeongseop will be promoting on music shows for the first time since their a-class performance together.

**hwanggu:** dont get too sappy on me now, ill be able to congratulate u in person soon!

**baekgu:** mm i wouldnt get ur hopes up

**baekgu:** we’re only promoting for today... 

his smile drops, the atmosphere suddenly stifling. thumbs hover over the keyboard, unsure of how to express himself- how can someone express their feelings when all they feel is emptiness?

**hwanggu:** oh ):

the aloof tone to the message almost makes him laugh. it’s the type of response someone should give upon finding out that the convenience store doesn’t have the drink they want, not when they find out their only chance at seeing one of the most important people in their life has been ruined by the incompetence of an entertainment company.

**baekgu:** its ok!!! im sure we’ll cross paths at some point

**hwanggu:** of course, ill see u soon. good luck

**baekgu:** thank u, u too for next week ^^

he crawls under his bedding, pulling a blanket over his head, and does what he knows is only going to hurt him further.

the music video is full of soft colours, subdued lighting, airy breezes and city lights.

it’s everything that reminds him of hyeongseop.

he barely registers the weight of his mattress shifting, a light hand placed on his back in a silent question of permission. he tenses up, locking his phone, and takes a moment to collect himself before peeking out from under the blanket. warm eyes meet his without a trace of judgement, but even the sympathy radiating from the younger isn’t enough to soothe the dull ache of his hollowed out chest.

“you alright?” daehwi asks, hand moving lightly across his back in small circles.

“yeah,” he responds, shifting slowly to sit up, settling his back against the wall.

daehwi lets his hand fall back to his side with a small smile. “sure,” he says, shuffling closer. 

“i am,” he says, voice faint. “i’m alright.” 

the younger doesn’t respond, but a familiar warmth drapes itself across him, delicate arms snaking around his waist from the side. a comfortable silence falls over them, daehwi nestling into the crook of woojin’s shoulder, soft hair tickling at his neck. he feels, more than hears, daehwi speak up again. “you don’t have to tell me,” he speaks carefully, “you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” woojin gives a slight nod. “it’s not like you to be so attached to your phone. is there something going on?”

‘something’ is probably a good name to put to the situation- entirely undefined, vague, yet with a certain negative undertone.

he tries to form a response to quell the younger’s concern, but his face refuses to move, lips heavy, and all he can do is stare holes into his lap. his hands won’t stop fidgeting, picking at the already roughened skin of his fingers. the weight against his side doesn’t shift, regardless of how much time passes, regardless of whether he’ll ever answer. 

when he takes in a sharp breath, daehwi lifts his head, giving woojin his full attention. the hold on his waist only tightens when he manages a quiet, “i,” before his voice gives out again. his gaze flutters up to meet daehwi’s and the younger just nods in encouragement. “do you ever just… wish you could stop caring about someone?”

the raise of his brows is a sure sign of daehwi’s concern. he pauses before answering softly, “i don’t think so,” sinking back to rest his head on woojin’s shoulder once again. “i’m not going to tell you you’re being dumb, but caring is a good thing, i think.”

woojin hums, leaning into the other’s touch. “it’s just one of those days, i guess.”

they fall back into silence, the rise and fall of their chests mingling with dull murmurs of nine other voices.

his eyes start to burn with the quiet, “you miss him,” mumbled into his sweater.

 

(at nineteen years old, woojin decides that fate is cruel.

he wants nothing to do with it.)

  
  
  


v. december

 

somewhere along the timeline of stage lights, camera flashes, and missed calls, hyeongseop stops trying to contact him. it’s nice, at first. it’s easy to get caught up in the winds of tight schedules, raucous teammates, and loyal fans; he drifts along, letting them carry him to safety. it’s better this way.

but there are times when the schedules break, the members quieten down, and the sounds of crowds can’t reach him- and he plummets straight back down.

the impact of another message knocks the air from his lungs.

**baekgu:** hey i know this is kinda sudden but i wanted to do something little for our 10 out of 10 team for christmas, if u want to be in on it too??? ^^

he narrows his eyes at the screen. he can’t quite tell whether it’s the racing of his heart or the awkward phrasing of the text, but he’s unable to decipher exactly what the other means. he locks his phone, setting it back down on his bed as he considers whether to just leave hyeongseop on read again.

after all, what’s one more time?

_ one more time  _ floats through his mind, lines blurring and rejoining until it resolves itself into  _ one more try. _

**hwanggu:** hey, what do u mean?

**baekgu:** i wanna send out christmas cards! u dont have to send anything back im just doing it out of appreciation for u all

his capacity for overthinking plagues him at the best of times. after weeks of avoiding contact, it crashes over him in a wave of cynicism. why, out of so many trainees, their first team? why not the top twenty, who became so close-knitted out of fear and desperation? why not his last team, full of brightness and youthful energy that lit up the practice rooms just as much as the finale stage?

he settles on the dreaded answer of  _ nostalgia _ , the same answer that underlies most of his subconscious, filling his sleepless nights and daydreams all the same.

**hwanggu:** thats a cute idea, go for it

**hwanggu:** oh send it straight to us not the company

**hwanggu:** who knows what theyll do with it

**baekgu:** hahaha ok !!! will do 

**baekgu:** never trust ymc

he can’t help but crack a smile at the last message, exhaling in a short bout of laughter.

**hwanggu:** my life motto

**hwanggu:** (((dont tell anyone i said that theyll prob murder me n cover it up)))

**baekgu:** WOOJIN

**hwanggu:** am i wrong

**baekgu:** not at all which is why u cant say things like that

**hwanggu:** hope i get ur card before ymc gets me

**baekgu:** omg

**baekgu:** ill get writing then

**hwanggu:** haha ok have fun

**baekgu:** <3

as soon as the messages stop, he’s left defenseless against the barrage of his thoughts once again. each brief moment they share leaves him reeling in juvenile excitement and fluttering desire; but once they stop, once the distraction stops, he’s left with the reality of just how transitory and shallow their interactions truly are. 

his own deep-rooted sense of loyalty won’t allow him to let go, no matter how futile the situation.

 

hyeongseop remains loyal to his word, even sending the card a bit earlier than necessary. there’s nothing more quintessentially  _ hyeongseop  _ than taking a fleeting joke and running with it, taking it to the height of seriousness. it warms his heart, and tempts him to reassure the elder that  _ no, ymc is not actually going to murder me,  _ and  _ yes, you are actually the single most adorable person on this planet.  _ although, sometimes, woojin isn’t sure hyeongseop is from this planet at all.

he turns the envelope over in his hands before deciding to read it in the relative privacy of their room. his hands fumble a little with the paper, struggling to rip it open without damaging its contents. with a deep inhale, he settles onto his stomach, propped up on his elbows to give his full attention to the card. 

 

_ woojinnie!  _

_ i hope you have a great christmas + new year & that you finally get to have a decent break! make sure you take some time to look after yourself. best of luck with all of your promotions as part of wanna one, not that you guys need it ^^ _

_ this was my own idea yet i’m struggling to figure out what else to write haha... _

_ i can’t believe it’s already been half a year since the end of produce… it feels like just yesterday we were hearing nayana for the first time, right? if i’m being honest, no matter how difficult it was, i’ll always look back on it fondly. i think i kind of miss it. maybe, more than anything else, i miss your presence? i’m eternally grateful for how much you’ve helped me learn, & really just for your existence. even though we don’t get to see each other as much now, i’m still grateful for every moment we can share. i miss you. _

_ thank you for making this year the best i’ve had in a long time, and i hope we’ll stay part of each other’s lives for many years to come. _

_ — hyeongseop  _ _ ♡♡♡ _

 

he’s not sure at what point it started, but the trembling of his hands refuses to stop, even after he lets the paper fall from his grasp. the card falls shut with the movement of woojin lifting himself up. hyeongseop’s words have written themselves across his mind, ingraining themselves, not letting him forget even if all he can see is the card’s exterior, a benign, generic christmas design smiling back up at him.

he can’t help but smile, too, even if it feels a little too rough around the edges, a little too watery.

the sleepy remnants of sunlight dripping through the window start to fade as he loses himself in the same sentences, over and over until he’s picked apart every last word, searching for meanings where there might not even be any. 

he finds himself again in the familiar motions of unlocking his phone, scrolling through his contacts, and hitting call. he finds assurance in the voice that answers shortly after, a sweet, “hello?” that rings through the air.

“hey, i got your letter.”

“christmas card,” hyeongseop corrects gently.

woojin laughs softly. “it’s not christmas for like, another week. does that even count?”

“it’s a christmas card! it doesn’t matter how early it is, it’s still for christmas.”

woojin hums noncommittally. “speaking of which,” he continues, leaning back into the pillows on his bed, “did you seriously send it that early because of what i said?” 

the smile on his face only grows with the silence that follows. when hyeongseop finally sputters, “no- that’s not-” woojin breaks into laughter. “that’s not it! i sent everyone’s early,” he exclaims over the noise of the other’s laughter.

“you knew exactly what i was referring to though, did you not?” woojin questions, glancing around the room as he waits in amusement for a response.

“okay, sure,” hyeongseop concedes. there’s a slight lull in the conversation before he continues.  “i cherish every moment i get to spend talking to you, of course i remembered.”

it never fails to surprise woojin just how quickly hyeongseop collects himself after faltering. surprise comes in the form of warmth; the intense conviction with which hyeongseop speaks first warms his chest, then his neck’s nape, rising finally to reside across his cheeks. 

he misses being able to do the same, to watch the way hyeongseop’s ears grew redder with every compliment, to feel the slight quiver of hyeongseop’s hands each time he corrected them in their late nights spent in concentrated practice.

his left hand finds its way to the card, fingertips grazing along the coarse glitter of the cover as it unfolds.

“i know, me too,” woojin replies, voice low. “ _ even though we don’t get to see each other as much now, i’m still grateful- _ ”

“don’t.”

“ _ -for every moment we can share- _ ”

“woojin stop!”

“- _ i miss- _ ”

“stop,” hyeongseop groans, and woojin can practically  _ hear  _ the reddening of his ears. he doesn’t continue, too immersed in his own laughter to manage the last word. “i hate you.”

he manages to regain his composure enough to retort, “no you don’t. you miss-”

“i’m hanging up, have a good night,” hyeongseop interjects. there’s no malice in his voice, and there’s a very real possibility that it was intended as a joke, but woojin doesn’t stop him.

“okay, goodnight.”

he’s not sure whether the other hangs up before he adds, “i miss you.”

 

(he messages two people that night, the first of which is hyunmin.

**woojin:** hey, sorry that this is kinda abrupt but did u get anything from seop yet?

**hyunmin:** hey ??? im not sure what ur talking about haha

**woojin:** did he not contact u?

**hyunmin:** no? we havent spoken for a while

**woojin:** oh ok

**woojin:** thats ok sorry must have been a misunderstanding

**woojin:** sorry for bothering u, have a good holiday!

**hyunmin:** no its fine! u too

 

the second is euiwoong, for a different reason.)

  
  
  


i. january

 

the unsteady vibrations of the bus and the thrumming of his heart are one and the same. he finds himself ducking his head out of habit, hiding away despite the relative lack of passengers. it’s an odd feeling, going unnoticed, none of the other late-night travellers paying him any attention. they have no idea of the uneasy blankness of his mind, nor the way his breath trembles, wavering from more than just the biting winter weather.

cold city air hits him when he exits, and he breathes it in deeply, hoping for it to cool the burning self-consciousness coursing through him. it doesn’t help. he takes it one step at a time, mind concentrated only on the simple movement of putting one foot in front of the other, until he reaches the door his heart has longed to see for so long.

(or, at least, he’s pretty sure it is- apprehension plagues him even though he’s checked the number at least six times before even daring to lift a hand.)

he barely finishes knocking before the door cracks open to reveal a wide-eyed euiwoong, peeking through the small space. he smiles warmly in recognition, stepping back and letting the door fall open in a silent invitation. the younger doesn’t give any verbal recognition of woojin’s arrival, even as he shuffles clumsily out of his shoes, the clicking of the door closing shut serving as the only indication of an arrival. the atmosphere is stiflingly silent, save for the murmurs of a television in the distance and the silvery rustle of what woojin assumes could only be some kind of snack.

he takes a few careful steps inside before deciding,  _ fuck it,  _ and calling out a loud, “hello!” in hopes that the sheer volume will overpower the nervous quivering that threatens to spill over and pollute his speech.

his lips lift into a fond smile as he watches the figure on the couch flinch from the sound. the other turns around slowly, hands grasping loosely at the back of the lounge as he stares wide-eyed at the scene before him, brows raised in surprise. “w-what?” hyeongseop utters, gaze darting from woojin to euiwoong, the latter of which who just shrugs in quiet laughter. “woojin?” 

“yeah, hello to you too,” he responds giddily. the sheepish grin doesn’t leave his face even as he strides closer, giving a quick greeting to seunghyuk before he settles next to hyeongseop. round eyes blink up at him, brows still creased in slight confusion. 

hyeongseop seems to have finally grasped the situation when he manages to ask, “why are you here?” the question startles woojin for a second, and he’s pretty sure his expression must have faltered along with his mind, because the other shakes his head quickly. a small smile appears on his face, gaze softening as he clarifies, “no, you just sca- surprised me? this was the last thing i was expecting from you.”

woojin lets out a small, “ah,” in understanding, but he can’t help the disappointment settling into him at he leans back into the couch. he stares into the television, past it, not really looking at all. he’s not sure what he expected, but it wasn’t this. new year's eve is something of airy freedom, of new starts and celebration. here the air is stifling, the tension leaving him frozen in place. the space between their bodies is minute, and usually they would close the gap to lean their weight against one another in a show of silent comfort. but that was before, and this is now, the now in which woojin feels like he can’t even breathe in fear of brushing against the other’s side. 

it was stupid, so stupid of him to think that he would walk through the door and hyeongseop would be all over him immediately in some kind of unspoken, unrealistic fantasy that’s built up for months out of loneliness and desperation. 

it takes him a while to notice the sideways glances hyeongseop keeps giving him, and when he does, with it comes the realisation that he never answered the other’s question. “i, uh,” he starts, speech stilted, “just wanted to visit, since i won’t have much time to otherwise.”

“yeah, it’s been a while. you guys must be so busy,” seunghyuk speaks up from the other side of the couch. woojin is grateful for it, some of the tension leaving his body as some semblance of normalcy returns to the conversation.

woojin hums in agreeance. “it’s good though, i’d rather be busy.”

“than be here?” euiwoong questions jokingly, bringing what is probably a few too many packets of chips with him back into the room. 

“that’s not-”

“woojin doesn’t want to be here, confirmed,” hyeongseop interrupts with feigned indifference, reaching across the accused as euiwoong sits down, stealing one of the bags from his arms.

“it’s settled then, i guess, better go home woojin.” there’s still hints of laughter in seunghyuk’s voice, and woojin shakes his head disapprovingly.

“you guys can’t even go along with a joke without laughing, it doesn’t work,” he retorts. 

“nope, you’ve gotta leave now, you did this,” hyeongseop continues. “looks like  _ somebody  _ won’t be joining us for the festivities.”

woojin peers at the elder, studying the arrogant air he puts on, far too exaggerated to seem malicious in the slightest. and really, he thinks, has hyeongseop ever had an ill-natured bone in his body? there are so many things hyeongseop  _ should  _ be spiteful of, so many things he  _ should  _ hold a grudge for- yet here they are, engrossed in teasing banter once again, as if the universe and fate herself hasn’t been attempting to split them apart for the better part of a year.

(woojin knows, realistically, that he’s partly to blame. hyeongseop should hold a grudge against him, too. but woojin knows he won’t..)

euiwoong’s laughter resonating in his ears snaps him back to the present. “what festivities? what are we even doing tonight?” he asks, leaning forward to look at hyeongseop.

“we literally have nothing planned,” hyeongseop responds, shifting to sit with his legs tucked under him. woojin makes a conscious effort not to shy away as their shoulders bump, still far too hyperaware of every movement the other makes.

“we have a guest, we can’t just do  _ nothing _ ,” seunghyuk protests.

“movie?” hyeongseop suggests softly, observing the other’s reactions. “if we start now, it should finish a bit before midnight.”

woojin throws a quick glance at the other two before nodding at hyeongseop, but euiwoong speaks up from behind him. “a superior idea,” he starts teasingly, “why don’t we watch your drama, seop?”

woojin can’t help but grin as he watches the reddening of hyeongseop’s ears. the colour only brightens further, betraying the impassive glare he sends to the younger. “do it, then. since you want to watch it so much,” hyeongseop snaps without faltering.

seunghyuk laughs, shaking his head as he stands. “you two stop, i’ll find something to watch.”

 

they settle for something entirely benign after hyeongseop requests for,  _ ‘no horror,’  _ and at the resounding laughter that follows, asserts, _ ‘no, seriously, nothing with jumpscares.’  _ as the night deepens, so does his fatigue, eyelids growing heavy as he barely pays attention to the actors on screen. it’s at this point of night where the living room starts to feel like an underwater scene; the cold, blue light of the television screen illuminates their sluggish bodies, movements slowed as if they’re wading through water, and woojin is fairly certain that there must be no air left in the room, because can’t quite catch his breath with the warmth of hyeongseop’s body pressed up against his side and the tickle of his hair nestled in the crook on his shoulder.

it’s only when hyeongseop mumbles weakly, “i want to talk to you,” that woojin realises that the credits are rolling. 

he hopes that the other can’t hear him swallow. “yeah?” he responds quietly. the moment is so still, frozen in time, that it feels like the slightest movement or raise of his voice will shatter it irreparably.

“not here,” hyeongseop responds, and woojin has to sneak a glance at the other two in the room. the nervous flutter in his chest only rises when he realises they’ve both fallen asleep during the movie without him noticing, and  _ somehow,  _ at some point, hyeongseop has noticed.

the weight on his shoulder lifts, and with it leaves his source of warmth. cold air hits him as hyeongseop leans forward to focus his gaze on woojin, tilting his head inquisitively. woojin isn’t sure which of the two is responsible for the shiver that runs down his spine. 

“i don’t want to wake them up,” hyeongseop explains, except it really doesn’t clarify anything at all. woojin nods despite the vagueness surrounding the situation. the other stands up, already treading lightly to the other door, and woojin moves to follow, careful not to disrupt the sleeping figure by his side. 

hyeongseop waits to close the door behind them both, and woojin stands awkwardly a few feet into the room, unsure of what to do. he waits for hyeongseop to say something, to turn around and make some kind of indication as to what he wants. hyeongseop turns around, passes by him entirely, and sits on one of the beds with a bright, “so, how have you been?”

_ what the fuck,  _ woojin thinks, blinking vacantly at the elder. he pauses for a moment, frozen in place, before he manages to take a seat by the other’s side. “alright? i guess,” he tries, shuffling to sit with his back against the wall. there’s something familiar about the motion, having spent so much of his time pressed up against the dorm walls in conversation with hyeongseop, yet it’s entirely different- hyeongseop is here, with him, right by his side. “what about you?”

hyeongseop takes a moment to form a response, head tilted as he stares across the room. “is it weird that i’m not sure?” he asks, voice faint.

“no,” woojin assures him almost immediately. “not at all.”

“i guess that’s my answer, then.”

woojin hesitates, unsure of whether to pry further. when he looks at hyeongseop, the other won’t match his gaze. it’s the unnamed tug in his chest that prompts him to ask, “are you okay, though?”

the answer comes in the form of a slight nod, and the intertwining of hyeongseop’s fingers with his own. woojin doesn’t think he needs words to understand, but hyeongseop speaks up anyway. “i just miss it sometimes, and i shouldn’t, because it was full of stress and disappointment, and i  _ know  _ it’s just nostalgia tinting my memories.” he finally meets woojin’s gaze, and woojin nods in encouragement. “this is really weird, and i think my brain is tired, just- sorry, try to forget what i’m about to say,” he continues. “it’s just, sometimes i wish i could relive the experience of meeting you?”

that was not the turn he expected the conversation to take, but with hyeongseop, it’s always been this way- hyeongseop saying something unexpected and outlandish, and woojin slowly finding himself understanding and agreeing more with every second he spends contemplating the other’s perspective. he tightens his grip on the other’s hand as he says, “me too.”

“it’s the lack of sleep,” hyeongseop laughs airily, leaning against woojin’s side. “it doesn’t make sense.” 

“i think i get it,” he responds, as hyeongseop lifts their intertwined hands. he untangles their fingers, but doesn’t let go, both of his hands holding lightly onto woojin’s as he examines it. his fingertips trace lightly over the skin, brushing over the veins on the back of his hand before turning it over gently. tingles start to take shape as hyeongseop maps out the lines of his palm with his index finger, and it takes him back to rooms of mirrors, of heavy air, of desperation and late nights spent practising.

_ (it’s 3am when woojin realises there’s something wrong, hyeongseop’s smiles not quite lighting up his eyes as they usually would.  _

_ “you alright?” he asks, sitting next to hyeongseop as they take a short break. _

_ “yeah,” hyeongseop replies. _

_ “what’s up?” he tries again, not wanting to let this fester any longer. _

_ hyeongseop runs a hand through his hair, looking off into the mirror. “i just… don’t feel like i can do this sometimes.” woojin nods, urging him to continue. “it feels useless, when there are people like you, with more talent in their pinky finger than i’ll ever have.” _

_ “that’s not true, and you know it,” woojin assures, winding an arm around the other’s hunched shoulders. “although, you know what,” he continues, holding up his right hand, “there is a lot of talent in my hands.” hyeongseop stares at his hand in confusion, to which woojin flexes his fingers, hyperextending their joints until they resemble that of wolverine. _

_ hyeongseop gasps audibly, grabbing hold of his wrist. “what,” he starts to laugh, pulling woojin’s hand closer to his face. “this is so gross, yet so interesting.”  _

_ woojin feels his lips lift into a fond smile as he watches the brightness of the other’s gaze return, pure fascination shining in his eyes as woojin relaxes his hand again. hyeongseop turns the hand over in his, fingertips tracing along the expanse of his palm, travelling down to his wrist, leaving little shivers in their wake. woojin lets him continue, soft skin grazing against the calloused tips of his fingers until another voice calls out, “come on, we need to practice.” hyeongseop jolts, pulling his hands away from woojin’s as if the skin had burned him. _

_ although, if the red-tinged tips of hyeongseop’s ears were any indication, woojin would think he would be the one with burning-hot skin.) _

except now, there’s nothing stopping them. there’s nothing stopping hyeongseop from tracing a line down the underside of his arm, pushing away the loose fabric of his sweater to admire the slight raise of the veins under tan skin. hyeongseop’s skin against his is soft, milky white, a colour reserved only for him and the stars of the night sky. except they’re in the middle of seoul, and really, the stars aren’t visible past tall buildings, neon lights, and grey clouds. the last time he saw stars so bright was back in busan, and he thinks maybe that’s why hyeongseop feels so much like  _ home.  _

the movement stops, two fingers coming to rest gently at his wrist.

“are you nervous?” hyeongseop’s voice is warm, with more than a hint of affection, and woojin can only hope that the quickening of his heart isn’t obvious. the small smile that appears on the other’s face tells him otherwise.

“yeah,” he admits, not bothering to hide it any longer.

“don’t be,” hyeongseop responds, lifting woojin’s hand to place a soft kiss at the base of his wrist, then the back of his hand, then moving up to give a gentle peck on his cheek. woojin ducks his head in embarrassment, his sheepish grin returning. when he looks up, hyeongseop falters, avoiding his gaze. “sorry, i shouldn’t have-”

“don’t,” woojin interrupts, shifting to sit facing the other. “don’t apologise.” hyeongseop doesn’t respond, just peers up at him through his lashes, eyes radiating equal parts nervousness and warmth. the drumming of his heart resonates through him as he reaches a tentative hand out, cupping hyeongseop’s jaw gently. he leans closer, watching the other’s features carefully for any signs of apprehension, but hyeongseop just closes the gap, meeting him halfway in a short press of lips. woojin pulls back to admire the pink dusting across the other’s cheeks, voice low as he remarks, “so cute.”

“don’t,” hyeongseop complains, lifting himself to a kneeling position. woojin raises a brow. “just- stop, let me kiss you,” he manages, hands grasping lightly at woojin’s waist, guiding him to sit against the wall. woojin laughs in endearment as hyeongseop stumbles in his attempt to straddle his hips, hands coming to rest at hyeongseop’s waist to steady him. hyeongseop leans forward to press a quick kiss at the corner of his mouth, hands moving to rest at his shoulders, but woojin’s giddy laughter doesn’t stop no matter how much he tries to compose himself. “stop laughing,” hyeongseop protests. “this is meant to be such a nice moment, this is not how i imagined this going.”

“imagined,” woojin echoes, the smile on his face only growing as hyeongseop’s face blooms red.

“don’t act like you didn’t,” he retorts. before woojin can respond, hyeongseop leans in, capturing his lips in another kiss. he almost cracks another smile at the abruptness of it all, but all he can concentrate on is the sensation of a delicate hand trailing down his front, stopping at the hem of his sweater. his grasp on the other’s waist tightens as fingertips sneak their way under the fabric, skin ice-cold against his stomach. he gasps involuntarily at the touch, and hyeongseop takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, desperation taking over his movements.

hyeongseop’s hand traces over the contours of his torso with careful, slow movements, and it’s only when fingers dip below his navel, brushing against the soft skin, that woojin parts from the other’s lips. he grabs hold of hyeongseop’s wrist, breathing a weak, “stop,” as he pulls the hand away. 

“but i want to,” hyeongseop practically whines, even as woojin wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him even closer. woojin presses soft kisses along his jaw, making his way down the expanse of hyeongseop’s neck as he tilts his head back, stopping to mouth at his collarbone before making his way back up to suck at the skin below the other’s ear. warmth courses through his body with the feeling of fingers grasping tightly at the back of his shirt, and woojin swears the heat blooming across his face is at the point of being physically dangerous when hyeongseop’s head falls back with a soft moan, hips pressing down against his. he pulls away to meet the other’s lips in a slow yet fervent kiss, threading fingers through black hair. hyeongseop shifts again, and woojin tugs gently at his hair to pull them apart. “i don’t think this is- i don’t think we should do this,” he manages, voice already rough.

hyeongseop nods, almost imperceptibly, but his eyes continue to search woojin’s features. he’s about to ask if this is okay, if he’s completely misinterpreted and fucked up- but hyeongseop speaks up, voice slightly watery as he asks, “but when am i going to see you again?”

the question is sobering, and woojin can feel reality settling back in. he untangles his grasp from the other’s hair, placing a gentle hand at the side of hyeongseop’s face. “hey,” he calls softly, thumb grazing against his cheekbone. “hyeongseop, look at me.” when the elder complies, he continues, “i’ve missed you so much, and i’m sorry for not showing that enough. we’ll see each other as soon as we possibly can.”

“it’s not your fault, it’s just me having constant doubts about everything,” hyeongseop responds.

“i shouldn’t be letting you have doubts,” woojin says, punctuating the end with a quick peck to his lips. “i’ve done so much dumb shit because i was trying to forget, but i’ve realised i don’t want to. at all.”

hands wind their way around his neck, and he lets them pull him in, breathing in the soft, “please don’t forget me,” hyeongseop kisses onto his lips. 

“i couldn’t even if i tried, quite literally.” he laughs breathily, resting their foreheads together.

hyeongseop returns the smile, nose scrunching up in playful joy. “don’t hang up on my video calls ever again, you idiot.”

woojin’s smile drops along with his hand. “what?”

“i wasn’t asleep,” he chuckles lightly. “you’re not sneaky.”

“oh my god i- i’m so sorry, i didn’t know,” he stumbles.

“i was never angry at you,” hyeongseop soothes him. “and it doesn’t matter. you’re here now, i get to wake up to you in the flesh.”

woojin frowns. “i hate that phrase.”

hyeongseop shakes his head with an affectionate smile. “you’re a professional moment-ruiner, but you’re my favourite moment-ruiner in the world.”

“i’m glad to be of service,” he responds with a grin. 

hyeongseop blinks slowly at him. “as much as i would love for you to ruin more moments, i’m about twenty seconds away from falling asleep on you.”

“i don’t think i would mind,” he responds, running a hand through the other’s hair once more, pushing it away from his face. it’s natural, the way hyeongseop tilts his head forward, woojin pressing a light kiss to his forehead, as if they’d gone through the motions a hundred times before.

woojin has never been one to believe in past lives, but when he crawls under warm blankets, pulling hyeongseop close to his chest, he finds himself wondering.

 

(the motion brings him back to late nights, messy sheets, the stifling feeling of stress and humidity in the darkest hours of the night. it takes him back to the sheen of sweat, reassurances whispered in dead silence, limbs heavy with fatigue tangled together haphazardly.

just like the whispers of reassurances from months past, woojin tells himself it’s going to be okay.

they’re going to be okay.)


End file.
